Boston
by Brandi Golightly
Summary: "She said I think I'll go to Boston. I think I'll start a new life, I think I'll start it over, where no one knows my name." Boston by Augustana. Nora Watson leaves her life behind in California to start anew in Boston. What she finds there was what she was least expecting. Jem/OC.


**Hey everyone! This is a one-shot I wrote for a contest on Tumblr. I decided to post it here to see what you guys think. This fic is based on the song "Boston" by Augustana.**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Jem Coughlin (though I wish I did) or any of the other characters from _The Town_. I only own any original characters.**

* * *

It started with me losing my job. We all know the economy sucks so clearly this wasn't my fault. There were just too many people on staff and I just so happened to be one of the last few people hired. Therefore, my job was on the chopping block.

Next came the day I got kicked out of my apartment. I'd only lost my job a month prior, but my landlord had always been a bitch. If you were a day late when it came to paying rent, she charged you a penalty fee. So, of course, after I lost my job, money had been tight. I was late paying rent (and when I mean late, I didn't pay it at all) and my landlord flipped shit. Words were said and I even threw a soup ladle at her out of anger. By the end of the argument, my ass got handed to me and I was ordered to be out of the apartment by the end of the week. I was out of there by sunrise the next day.

The final straw came when I caught my so-called "boyfriend" shacking up with one of my good friends from college. I use the term "boyfriend" loosely because even I wasn't quite sure if we were a couple. All I know is after I caught the two of them in bed together, we definitely weren't a couple. And of course I bitch slapped my so-called "friend" too. No girl is a friend of yours if she stabs you in the back like that. It doesn't matter if your status with your guy is questionable.

After I lost my job, lost my apartment, and lost my "boyfriend," I crashed at my parents' house for a while. They were rich. They lived in Beverly Hills. They'd always told me I can lean on them for anything. Money. A house. A car. Anything. But I'd always insisted on doing things myself, and they were okay with that. But even when I showed up on their doorstep with all my belongings shoved into my Honda, they still welcomed me with open arms.

I was only with them for two weeks. During that time, I went stir crazy. I had no job. I lost my apartment. I dumped my boyfriend and was friendless due to the news of me bitch slapping one of my good friends traveling fast. I was in a rut. I had nothing left for me.

That's when I realized I'd really wanted to get out of California for a while. I wanted a change of scenery and god dammit, I wanted some weather. Southern California was sunshine all the time with an occasional rain shower once a month. I wanted snow. I wanted those "April showers" everyone always mentions. I wanted sweltering hot summers. And for Christ's sake, I wanted to see the damn leaves change.

So, in the middle of the night while my parents were sleeping, I packed up my car with all of my belongings. I quickly scribbled a note on a piece of paper to let them know that I was okay and I'd call them when I could. With one last look at my parents' living room, I realized I wouldn't miss it one bit. I needed something different, so I turned on my heel and headed out, never looking back.

I didn't exactly know where I was going at first. I just drove. The landscape whizzed by my windows, changing every time I entered a new state. I slept in my car at night because if I couldn't afford my damn apartment, I certainly couldn't afford a night's stay at the cheapest motel. Besides, gas was more important. I got questioned by police a few times and I always made up some lame excuse about moving across the country.

One night, I got caught by a cop in Arkansas and I used the same excuse I'd used in the past.

"I'm moving across the country," I said.

"Where to?" he asked.

I wanted to shrug my shoulders, as if to say _I have no fucking clue_, but that wouldn't help my case. So, I just said the first place that came to mind.

"Boston," I said.

The cop nodded in approval. "I've got a cousin in Boston."

I blew out a breath that I'd been holding in. The cop had continued to drone on and on about his stupid cousin in Boston, but that's when I'd realized I'd finally found my destination. I'd finally found my new start. Boston it was then.

* * *

After nearly two weeks on the road, I finally reached Boston. I didn't exactly know where to start. I had no job. I had nowhere to live. My money was depleting quickly and I'm pretty sure I'd lost a sufficient amount of weight due to very little nourishment from the past two weeks. But I needed to make a decision and I needed to make it quick.

I decided to call my parents first. Since I had to make some choices before I left, I ended up leaving my phone at their house for them to cancel my plan. It would be one less expense I'd have to deal with. I parked my car in a diner parking lot and skipped inside to use the payphone. As expected, my mom answered the phone and when I announced who I was, she flipped out. Both of my parents knew I could take care of myself, but I'd never done something this drastic so of course they'd be pissed I just up and left.

Once I reassured my mother I was fine, I bid her goodbye and walked into the diner for a cup of coffee. While I sat at the counter, I studied a visitor's guidebook that listed all of the highest rated businesses in Boston. I was going to have to find a job before I even got myself a place. So once my coffee cup was empty and my bill was paid, I set off to find myself a job.

I should have known the job search wouldn't work. Boston was just as scarce with jobs like the whole state of California was, but it was worth a shot. I wouldn't stop until I found _something_ I could do to make money.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted and frustrated. I stumbled into a bar to drown my sorrows. I sidled up to the bar and asked for the cheapest glass of beer they had. The bartender nodded to me and sauntered off to retrieve my drink. By the time he returned, I must have looked depressed because he asked me what was wrong. I didn't really want to dump all my problems onto a complete stranger, but I'd done this to Bartender Jack at the bar I frequented during my college days. This was what bartenders were here for. They were here to listen to your problems while you pounded back shots to create more problems for yourself.

"I'm just not having a good few months," I whined as I nursed my beer.

"None of us are," the bartender said with a thick Boston accent. "The economy sucks."

"I lost my job. I got kicked out of my apartment because I couldn't pay my rent. My boyfriend cheated on me," I whined. I could feel tears stinging in the corners of my eyes but I blinked them back. I couldn't cry now, not when I just got here to make a new start for myself. "I left the west coast and came here for a new start. I'm just wondering if I'm capable of doing this."

"West coast, huh?" the bartender mused. "And you just got here?"

"Literally," I said. "Like, I arrived this morning."

"So you must need a job."

"Yeah," I breathed. "The hunt's not going so well."

"It just so happens I need a bar girl," the bartender admitted.

I choked on my beer and then slammed the glass on the countertop. I sputtered as I cleared my airways and then looked at the man with wide eyes. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You've got a job," the bartender said nonchalantly, wiping the countertop absentmindedly.

My jaw dropped. "Just like that?" I asked. "You're giving me the job just like that?"

"Darling, you have nowhere to go," the bartender said. "And I've been looking for a bar girl for weeks. You need a job. I need a bar girl. You've got a job now."

I shook my head in disbelief. Just like that I had a job. Boston hospitality at its finest. "I-I…thank you so much!" I squeaked.

"I'm assuming you need a place to stay," the bartender said. "I own a few apartments just down the street from here. You can crash in one of them for free until you've made enough to start paying or you've found a place of your own."

With that, the bartender walked off, leaving me to soak in what had just been presented to me. Maybe Boston wasn't such a bad idea after all.

It was my second day on the job when I saw him for the first time. I don't know what it was about him, but I liked him. He just screamed "bad boy" and I was captivated, which was strange because I'd always been the girl who dated stuck up rich boys. But this guy – oh my God, _this guy_ – he just grabbed my attention. He didn't look at me. He didn't talk to me. I didn't even know his name. I just liked him. I wanted him.

I was a week into my job when I learned his name. His name was Jem Coughlin and apparently he was a regular. I learned that he was from Charlestown, the worst neighborhood in Boston. He had killed a guy when he was 18 and did nine years in prison for it. That alone should have pushed me away. It should have pushed me far away from him, but I liked it.

After two weeks at the bar, I finally talked to Jem Coughlin. He came in one afternoon and sat at one of the stools at the bar. Usually he came in with his buddies and they grabbed a table in the corner. This particular day, he was alone. On this particular day, I just so happened to be the only one working behind the bar. I fixed my apron and I even indiscreetly adjusted my bra so my breasts looked bigger, which was a challenge since they weren't that big in the first place.

I walked to the end of the bar and stood in front of him. He was playing around with his expensive smart phone, unaware of my presence. I let him play with his phone for a couple more minutes before I cleared my throat. His head snapped up and his tired, blue eyes connected with mine. For a second, I'd forgotten why I'd approached him, but then I remembered I was at work.

"What can I get you?" I asked chirpily with a smile.

"Guinness," he answered in a husky Boston accent.

_Oh fucking hell_, I thought to myself. Over the past couple of weeks, I'd come to love that native Boston accent. Most people would find it annoying, especially if they weren't from Boston, but I liked it. With Jem Coughlin, it was so fucking sexy I could barely handle it.

With a perky smile, I turned around to retrieve a bottle of Guinness. I snapped the cap off of the bottle before turning around and sliding the bottle across the counter to Jem. He smirked at me before raising his bottle in a salute and bringing it to his lips for a drink.

I didn't want to hover so I just told him to enjoy his drink and call me over if he needed anything else. I sauntered off to the other end of the bar to busy myself with something completely stupid. I wished more patrons would come into the bar so I could look like I was actually doing something but no one came in.

Jem Coughlin never asked for another beer and about an hour after our interaction, he left. I quickly rushed over to his side of the bar to see what how much money he'd left. Sadly, only enough for the beer and a five dollar tip. I put the money in the register and pocketed my five dollar tip.

I knew it seemed ridiculous that I had been so giddy over my first interaction with Jem Coughlin, but I couldn't help it. Like I said, I'd always been one to go for the stuck up rich boys. But this was my new start. This was my new beginning. Why not take a chance with Jem Coughlin?

* * *

Three weeks had passed since my first interaction with Jem and nothing had happened since then. Of course he came into the bar, but never alone. He was almost always with his buddies and even then I couldn't muster up the courage to talk to him when he came up to the bar solo to order drinks for his table.

But that didn't stop me from trying to get his attention. I tried my hardest to wear the tightest clothing I had. Dark skinny jeans seemed to work the best on me. I'd even been making a bit of extra money so I visited the nearest Victoria's Secret and indulged myself in some nice push-up bras. But after all of my attempts, Jem still didn't notice. He still didn't talk to me aside from ordering his drinks for him and his buddies.

I'd all but given up. He probably had a girlfriend or some whore he called when he wanted a good fuck. If he didn't talk to me at the bar, he certainly didn't want me. So much for my new start. But things have a funny way of working out.

It was about a week after I'd given up my attempts at getting Jem Coughlin's attention when I'd been given a key to close up the bar. Joey, the bartender and owner, decided I was trustworthy and a good enough worker to be given a key to close up shop. He'd asked me to close the bar later that night and I'd giddily accepted.

Once all of the patrons had been ushered out – some easier than others – I locked the front doors and rang out the register before taking it into the office for Joey to count it in the morning when he came in. I gathered all of my belongings before slipping out the backdoor.

I know the bar had been situated in a shady neighborhood. I knew that from the start, but I never felt unsafe. I never parked too far away from the bar so I never thought something would happen to me. Of course I was wrong.

I felt someone shove me from behind and I stumbled to the ground. I felt my knees hit the pavement, followed by my hands. I winced and before even had time to process what was going on, I felt my assailant yank my head back by my ponytail. I let out a squeal but it was cut off by a knife being held to my throat.

"Everything in your purse, give it to me," the deep, rough voice said.

"Okay, okay," I choked out. "Just take it. There isn't much."

My assailant didn't budge. "And the keys to the building, where are they?"

"They're in my bag. They're on the Irish flag keychain," I said.

"Hey!"

My assailant flinched as he turned around. He released me from his grip and I quickly tried to scramble to my feet. I stumbled before falling back on my knees with a _thud_. I sucked in a breath through my teeth before scrambling to my feet again.

I was about halfway to my car when I realized I didn't have my car keys. They were in my purse, which was lying on the ground several feet away from me. I didn't exactly know why my assailant let go of me but I turned around anyways and quickly snatched my bag from the ground. I ran at full speed towards my car as I simultaneously tried to retrieve my keys from my bag. I pulled them out just as I reached my car and I quickly unlocked the doors with the remote. I climbed into my car less than gracefully and slammed the door behind me. I quickly reached for the button to lock the doors and even then I didn't feel safe. But at least getting to me wouldn't be so easy.

I felt the tears start to prickle in the corners of my eyes and that's when I hunched over and started to cry. I couldn't do this. There was no way I could do this. I knew I should have just turned around and went back to my parents.

There was a tap at my window and I jumped with a yelp. I turned to see, not my assailant, but Jem Coughlin outside my door. With a whimper, I pushed open the door and stepped outside to join Jem.

"You alright?" he asked in that husky Boston-accented voice of his that I loved so much.

With my eyes cast downwards, I nodded, solemnly and silently.

"He hurt you?"

I shrugged my shoulders. My knees hurt like hell and I could feel blood on the palms of my hands. I couldn't be entirely sure if he had drawn blood or not when he pressed the knife to my throat but I wouldn't be surprised if there was a small cut.

"Hey, you okay?" Jem asked as he grabbed me by the shoulders.

That's when I was jolted out of my thoughts. _Holy shit, Jem Coughlin is touching me right now_, my thoughts screamed.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"N-nora," I stammered.

"Yeah, yeah it is," he said with a nod.

"W-what do you mean 'yeah it is?' You don't even know me," I squeaked.

"What do you mean I don't know you?" Jem scoffed. "Your name is Nora Watson. You're 28 years old. You moved here from California. Joey offered you a job at the bar your first day in Boston."

I stared at him in awe. "Holy fucking hell, how the fuck do you know all of that?" I hissed.

Jem smirked and I could've sworn my heart skipped a beat. "Just because I don't talk to you doesn't mean I don't talk to Joey."

_Should've known Coughlin would surprise me_, I thought to myself.

"You gonna be okay to drive yourself home?" he asked curiously.

I nodded. I wanted to say something. Thank you for saving me? Thank you for asking if I was okay? But I didn't say anything. Instead, I just turned back to my car and climbed in. I gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles before reaching for my keys and shoving them in the ignition. I turned the key in the right direction and the car purred to life, illuminating the small parking lot in front of me.

The parking lot was completely empty and my assailant was nowhere in sight. The only thing I saw was Jem's retreating back as he walked out of the parking lot and disappeared down the alley, his figure being swallowed by the darkness.

* * *

The next time I saw Jem was three days after the attack. I don't know why I didn't tell Joey about it. I guess I felt like he might give me some time off to recuperate and collect myself, which I couldn't afford. I really needed the money so I could finally start paying rent.

It was in the middle of the day when Jem sauntered through the front door of the bar, his hands jammed into the pockets of his track jacket and his sunglasses perched atop the crown of his head. He caught sight of me behind the bar and he immediately took a seat at the stool directly across from me. I could already feel my ears getting hot, a strange effect from being embarrassed. The last time I'd seen Jem, I'd had a knife pressed to my throat and I was visibly shaken. I didn't exactly know how to talk to him when I wasn't the damsel in distress.

"Think you can grab me a Guinness?" he asked.

I nodded before reaching behind me to grab a bottle of his favorite alcohol. I snapped the bottle cap off before handing him the cool bottle. He took a long swig from the bottle before slamming the bottle on the countertop and wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his track jacket.

"How you holding up?" he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Okay, I guess."

"Your hands are still pretty scraped up," he said, nodding towards the palms of my hands.

I looked down and saw the red scrapes. Embarrassed, I shoved them into the pockets of my jeans. "I'll survive."

"Will ya?" he asked with an arch of his eyebrow.

I nodded.

With a smirk, he raised the beer bottle to his lip and took another swig. "You know, I should've really made sure you got home."

"I made it home just fine," I said nonchalantly as I grabbed a towel and started to wipe down the counter.

Jem shrugged. "Just seemed like the right thing I should've done."

I shook my head. "You didn't have to."

I had to admit that I kind of wished he did make sure I got home fine. My apartment was in an even worse part of the neighborhood than the bar but it never fazed me until I'd gotten attacked that night. I actually spent several minutes sitting in my car that night before mustering up enough courage to run into my apartment building.

"You need someone to walk you to your car at night, don't ya?" he asked devilishly, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I - ," I started but cut myself off. Who the hell did he think he was? God, I was so attracted to him but he was just so damn assertive that I didn't quite know how to handle it. But I had to face the fact that I did need someone to walk me to my car at night. And yes, I did need someone to follow me home to make sure that I got in my apartment safely.

"Yeah," I said finally. "Yeah, I do."

"Then I'm your guy," he said proudly.

"You're such a cocky little shit, you know that?" I said with a smirk.

"One of a kind."

* * *

Every night I closed the bar, Jem was there, waiting for me at the back door to escort me to my car and follow me home in his own. He would park right behind me and watch me as I made my way into my building. I would always look out the living room window to see Jem still parked behind my car. He would only drive away when he noticed me watching him from the window.

One night, I finally decided to see if Jem wanted to come inside. Not only did I want to spend more time with him, but he'd been going out of his way to make sure I made it home safely. He deserved at least a beer. As per usual, he was waiting for me outside of the back door when I closed up the bar. He walked me to my car and then got into his own. A couple seconds later, I pulled out of the small parking lot with Jem following right behind me.

When we reached my place, I cut the engine before taking a deep breath. I was nervous to ask him. I'd wanted to spend more time with him ever since I laid eyes on him, but now that the opportunity was available, I wasn't quite sure what to do.

Finally, I climbed out of my car with my purse clutched firmly in my hand and traipsed back to Jem, who was stationed in his car. I approached the driver's side and lightly tapped on the window. Jem turned his head to the side and noticed me. He lowered the window and grin devilishly at me.

"Yeah?"

"I-I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come inside?" I asked, my voice slightly shaking. "You've been driving back with me for the past week so I thought I'd offer you a beer or something."

I could see the internal debate going on and I pretty much expected him to say no. But he shrugged his shoulders and said, "Yeah, why not?"

I was taken aback, shocked to put it even more directly. I stepped back as he cut the engine and climbed out of his car. I shot a weak smile at him before heading up the walkway to my building. I could feel him behind me and I wanted to turn around to actually make sure he was there but I kept my eyes trained forward.

It wasn't until we were in my apartment and I'd cracked open a beer for him when my eyes actually locked with his. It was the longest we'd actually ever looked at each other and I felt my heart start to race. With a smirk, he swiped the beer off of the counter and took a swig.

I didn't quite know where to go from here. What was I supposed to do? How do I start a conversation with him? Did he even want to have a conversation with me? He probably just wanted to finish his beer in silence and then take off. Why the hell would he want to bother with me anyways?

"So, Nora," Jem said as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "There a reason you invited me in here tonight?"

"J-just returning the favor," I stammered. "You know, you follow me home every night I close the bar. I just thought I'd offer you something in return."

"And you think giving me a beer is going to make it even?" he asked as he held up the can of the cheap beer.

I shrugged, but then I realized what I'd done. Giving him a beer meant that he couldn't drive home. Of course I couldn't kick him out and make him sleep in his car so this meant he had to crash at my place. _Fantastic._

"I mean, you're welcome to crash on my couch," I said. "But yeah, I was just being polite. You follow me home every night. You, at least, deserve a beer for that."

"Well," Jem drawled before bringing the can of beer to his lips and chugging its remains. He crushed the can in his hand and chucked it into the trash can before turning his attention back to me. "I think I deserve more than just _one_ beer."

I giggled nervously before turning back to the fridge and retrieving another can. I turned back to Jem and handed him the beer before I turned back to the fridge and retrieved a can of beer for myself. You know what, why not?

For the next hour, we stood in the kitchen, drinking our beers and casually talking about random things. Not once did we bring up the attack that had been plaguing me for weeks, nor did we bring up my life prior to arriving in Boston. I could tell Jem wanted to know more – his body language said so – but he restrained himself.

It was close to five in the morning when we both realized we were relatively buzzed. We finished off our beers and chucked the empty cans in the trash before sluggishly dragging our feet into the hallway. I was beat. I'd been up since eight o'clock the day before and working at the bar always drained my body of its energy. But since Jem had come inside to have a couple beers, I was a little more awake than I would usually be.

I hesitated outside of my bedroom, turning back to Jem to bid him goodnight. But something in me took over. Something inside me said I shouldn't let him go. I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach that he would be gone by the time I woke up later. I looked up into his eyes and our eyes searched one another. I could tell he wanted something too, but whether he wanted the same thing that I did, I had no clue. I couldn't tell. This man was hard to read.

Suddenly, that something inside of me went into overdrive and I reached up to crush my lips to his. Surprisingly, though, he met me halfway and kissed me back with as much tenacity. I knew things would escalate quickly. I could just feel it in the way we touched each other. I clawed at his muscular arms while his hands searched my body in exploration.

We continued to kiss each other in the doorway to my bedroom until I felt it was time to take the next step. I grabbed a fistful of Jem's shirt and pulled him into my bedroom, never breaking the kiss. We stumbled backwards until the backs of my legs hit the edge of my bed. We fell onto the mattress with a _thump_ and tangled ourselves into each other's limbs.

"Is this why you really invited me inside?" Jem growled against my lips.

I could feel my ears turning pink and I kept my eyes shut. If I looked him in the eye, it would be a dead giveaway. Yeah, I invited him inside because I wanted something to happen. I didn't specifically want this to happen though. Maybe we would've just hung out. Maybe we would've watched early morning cartoons while we ate dry cereal from the box. Maybe we would've played Go Fish while we drank more beer. But I certainly didn't want this to happen. Well, I did want it to happen, but it wasn't my initial intention.

With a sigh, I pulled away from Jem and dropped my head to the mattress. "Sorry," I said apologetically and I tried to untangle myself from Jem's grasp. Instead, he only tightened his grip on me

"Never said I didn't like it," he said with a smirk.

Suddenly, I was really nervous. Was he okay with this? Or did he even care? And what did he think of me? Did he think I was some girl that just slept around with random guys? I had to put a stop to this.

"Wait, wait," I said quickly, trying to scramble from Jem's grasp. "I'm really sorry but I - ."

"You what?" he asked. "You don't like sleeping around?"

I swallowed nervously. "You've probably slept with tons of women but I don't want you to think I'm a slut."

"You? A slut? The same girl who tried to get my attention by wearing tight skinny jeans, push up bras, and even a few low-cut t-shirts?" Jem responded with a smirk.

_Of course he noticed_, I thought to myself. _I've really gotten myself into a huge mess, haven't I?_

"Besides," Jem said. "Do you think I'd really be in this position if I didn't ask Joey about you? I may fuck a lot of girls, but I don't just fuck any girls. And you're not just any girl, Nora Watson."

It sounded like something straight out of those lame romance movies my ex-boyfriend used to take me to see. Honestly, I love my romance movies, but take me to see an action movie any day. But the words tumbled from Jem's lips and it got my heart racing. Add that sexy Boston accent on top of it and I was sold.

In response, I just grabbed Jem by the base of his neck and pulled his lips down to mine. He attacked them hungrily and I groaned as I felt him grind his hips against mine. To tell you the truth, it had been a while since I'd had sex. My ex-boyfriend and I had been out of the game for a while before I ended things with him. I was just wondering if I was going to be up to Jem's standards.

However, I didn't stop him as his hands explored my body. His rough hands brushed over the soft skin underneath my t-shirt and his fingers looped through the belt loops on my pants. I let him do whatever he wanted. I let him fondle my breasts. I let him shove his hands down my pants and pleasure me to oblivion.

The sex was great. It took us a while to actually get each other's clothes off because I was too enthralled with Jem's hands down my pants. But when we finally stripped ourselves of the fabric, the sex was undeniably thrilling. Then again, I wasn't quite sure if we could call it sex. It was more along the lines of fucking. Every thrust was rough and intense and I liked it. I liked that my head was getting pushed into the headboard. I liked that I was out of breath as Jem rolled off of me.

I liked that he let me snuggle into his side. I liked that he let me rest my head on his chest. I liked that he was still there when I woke up well into the afternoon.

And I liked that he stayed until I had to leave for work again, which just so happened to be two days later.

* * *

I had no idea what Jem and I were to each other. Fuck buddies. Friends with benefits. A couple. All of the above. We could have been either one of those or a combination of them. All I knew is that I liked spending time with Jem. He made me feel safe. He made me feel special. He made me feel like moving to Boston was a good idea.

However, I knew something was wrong when I overheard Jem and Joey talking one afternoon at the bar. I had been in the back, looking for something in the office. I finally found it and headed out to the bar to return to work. I was on the other side of the door when I heard Joey and Jem talking. I was never one to eavesdrop but seeing as Joey and Jem were on the other side of the door, I didn't want to startle them by plowing through them in the midst of their conversation.

"Coughlin, I think you two should drop it right now," I heard Joey say.

"Drop what?" Jem asked. I could tell he was genuine in his answer.

"Don't hurt her, Jem," Joey said. "I like her. I don't want her running off when she finds out."

"She's not going to find out because the job's going to go as planned," Jem growled. I'd heard that tone in his voice before and I knew he was angry. Whatever they were talking about – and apparently it had to do with me – it was getting on Jem's nerves.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Coughlin?" Joey hissed. "You guys are going to practically rob God."

"And we're going to get it done. We're going to get it done and it's going to get done right," Jem retorted angrily.

There was a lengthy pause before a heavy sigh. "Your funeral, Coughlin. And I don't want to have to be the one to break the news to her."

"You won't have to break the news to her because nothing bad is gonna happen, got it?" Jem snapped.

There was another heavy sigh. "You're a dumb shit, you know that Coughlin? I hope you guys know what you're getting yourselves into."

"We do," Jem shot back angrily through clenched teeth. "Now get off my fucking back."

I heard heavy footsteps and I assumed that Jem had stomped off to resume sitting at the bar. I waited for Joey to come through the door but I heard another set of footsteps walk off as well. I didn't know what was going on and I wanted to know, but I couldn't ask without giving it away that I'd been eavesdropping. I'd earned both Joey and Jem's trusts; I didn't want to tarnish it.

With a deep breath, I pushed through the door to return to the bar, reclaiming my space in front of Jem. And not once did I bring up the conversation.

* * *

Spring is my favorite season of them all. I'd learned that after I moved to Boston. Autumn is nice because it's full of colors and the smell of pumpkin and spices. Winter is a little too cold for my liking but I love Boston when it snows. It's just so damn beautiful. And summer is bearable when it's not humid. As long as the air conditioning is working in the bar and in my apartment, I don't mind the heat one bit.

But none of them compare to spring. I arrived in Boston in the spring. Just as spring is a new beginning, a revival, it seemed so fitting. I'd been searching for a new start and found it in Boston in the springtime.

Spring is my favorite season because it's also when I met Jem. As cheesy as that sounds, it was a new relationship for a new beginning. He made me feel different. He was nothing like the guys I'd dated in the past. God, he was _so_ different than the guys I'd dated in the past. I connected with him on every level. I could go drink-for-drink with him. I could sit on the couch with him, watch reruns of _30 Rock_, and laugh our asses off for hours. And Jem and I, we were on the same level intimacy wise. There was nothing that we wouldn't do to and for one another.

But spring is almost one of the most painful seasons because that's when I lost Jem. He'd been hiding a painfully dark secret from me and I had to learn the hard way by turning on the news one afternoon to find that he'd been gunned down in the streets after robbing Fenway Park with a group of his friends. Spring had been good to me, but spring was also a bitch. She figured I needed another new beginning by taking Jem from me.

And spring, she decided to throw another curveball my way when I found out I was pregnant a couple weeks after Jem had passed. I was scared at first. Goddammit, I was so fucking scared. Raising a kid on a bartender's salary is not ideal. But I just viewed it as another new beginning. I may have lost Jem, but at least I'd still have a part of him in his child. _Our_ child.

I would never forget Jem. Hell, I see him every time I look at our son. But Jem was the first person to know me in Boston. You could argue that Joey was the first person, but I beg to differ. Jem knew me better than any person. Fuck, he knew me before I even knew myself. Jem Coughlin knew me. Jem Coughlin knew my name. Jem Coughlin cared. I may have lost him but I'm glad I made my decision.

I'm glad that I said to myself, "I think I'll go to Boston."

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**Hope you guys liked it! Thank you for reading and please review! :)**


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